


Save You If I Could

by SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 13:28:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18624199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse/pseuds/SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse
Summary: So Dean had been left with a choice that was no choice, not really.As Castiel sleeps, Dean is forced to make a decision that may alter their future forever.





	Save You If I Could

“Am I damned?” Dean asked out loud to the waiting dark. Things hovered around the edges of his vision, strange things, with long, jaggedly bent limbs and eyes like craters. Dean swirled the last of the whiskey around in the bottom of his glass before tipping it down his throat. It was almost eight a.m. and the men would be coming soon. Coming for Castiel.

He’d weighed the whole thing out for hours, over glass after glass of bloodied liquor, the silvered ice cubes cracking faintly in the silence. What they were doing was dangerous, he knew, even curled up in the motel room like this, doors locked and bolted. But hadn’t he expected danger, when he’d first joined with Castiel? Him and Sam both? It was one thing, he knew, to protect his brother, his glassy-eyed brother who had fallen under Castiel’s spell, who had cleaned the man’s bloodied face with the rags of his own t-shirt before laying down to sleep beside him. But it was another thing entirely to try to save Castiel from himself.

Dean looked at Castiel now, the neon glow of the alarm clock turning the hard planes of his face into soft, sunsetting things. “I don’t understand,” he whispered, more to himself than to the dark this time. At times it almost seemed as if the man wanted to die, as if he was waiting for it. “Everything’s alright,” he’d said to Dean one day, apropos of nothing, and Dean had felt suddenly as if he’d been granted some kind of permission, to do what, he hadn’t known. Not then.

He hadn’t known anything then, not really, before his mind had been made clear by these days in town, these days of being hunted, not only by the soldiers but by the gasping, bleeding mass of a crowd as they begged for a touch, a kiss. It had made Dean sick. And Castiel knew this, and yet he had refused to leave, to give up the adoration he’d grown used to in favor of his safety. So Dean had been left with a choice that was no choice, not really. And now, as the knock came on the door, he knew already what his answer would be.

“Castiel,” he murmured. He walked unsteadily over to the bed, over to where the man slept. And when he slept, he was just a man, Dean thought. It would make the end just a bit harder. 

Dean leaned down and kissed Castiel, a bare brush of lips, a hollow thing, and an insufficient apology. But Castiel still opened his eyes, and when he looked at Dean, he knew. They both knew. But neither would change his mind.

Dean pressed his lips to Castiel’s one more time, and then he went to open the door.


End file.
